


post-it

by tender_is_the_ghost



Series: Travis and Klarissa [4]
Category: Gossip (2000), Norman Reedus - Fandom, Travis - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt, Jealousy, Love, Minor Violence, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travis forgets a very important date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	post-it

**_Art as always by the ridiculously talented Lucia,[tmd-dump-station](http://tmblr.co/mWbtVYPDiUpg03wvLTVVeAQ)_ **

**_Please show your appreciation for her amazing talent and like/reblog the original[here](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/post/81825136847/a-travis-for-our-klarissa-secretly-a-zombie)._ **

_([R&faq](http://tmd-dump-station.tumblr.com/editrules))_

**_DO NOT REPOST_ **

 

Klarissa bounds up the concrete stairs to Travis’ apartment, her thick-soled boots thumping on each one until she reaches the top, a little breathless. She takes a moment to finger-comb her hair and straighten her new dress down against the bare skin of her thighs where it’s ridden up from her excited race up the stairs. Satisfied that she’s once more presentable, she lets herself in and looks around. The living room is empty as is Travis’ bedroom so she wanders down to his studio where she finds him, deep in concentration behind his wall of monitors, his fingers dancing over his editing equipment.

“Hey,” she says from the doorway and he looks up, startled.

“Klar. Hi. What are you doing here?” he replies, looking puzzled.

“It’s Friday night, we’re going out, remember?” Klarissa tells him, a sinking feeling starting in the pit of her stomach as she takes in his untamed hair and the circles under his eyes that tell her he’s been deep in whatever project he’s working on and probably hasn’t slept in days. “You forgot.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly which she knows means that he did. “It’s just that, well, um, I really have to get this project finished. I’m already over my deadline but I managed to get an extension to hand it in tomorrow if I can just get it done tonight. You know how hard it is to get anybody in their office on a Saturday, Klar.”

Klarissa feels her face fall into a mask of anger and disappointment.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” he says, apologetically, his eyes flicking back to the monitor in front of him. “We’ll go out tomorrow night, I promise, but I really have to do this right now. You understand, right?”

“No, Travis,” she replies softly, “I don’t understand. Not anymore. I love you, I love what you do. I think you’re an amazing artist and a creative genius and I understand that you don’t always function on the same level as the rest of us but sometimes, just occasionally, I need you to put me first.”

“Klar, I do put you first, it’s just…”

“No, you don’t,” she shouts, interrupting him. “You only put me first when it fits in with your life.”

“That’s not fair, Klarissa, you know that’s not true.”

“Not fair, Travis, not fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair – me wasting my time getting ready to spend an evening with you, worrying about how I look, wondering if you’ll notice I bought a new dress in your favorite color, looking forward to spending my time with you, only to find that not only did you forget our date but that you can’t even stop what you’re doing long enough to acknowledge I’m even here. That’s what’s not fair and I’m sick of it.”

She knows she’s shouting at him but she just doesn’t care, tonight was supposed to be special and now he’s made her feel like an inconsequential fool. Hot tears burn at the back of her throat and sting her eyes but she bites her tongue to stop them from falling.

“Klarissa, I’m sorry,” he says, standing up from his seat and raising his voice to match hers, “but don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit? You know you’re important to me but so is my work, I thought you understood that. I warned you when we started dating that there would be times like this and now suddenly it bothers you? What difference does it make if we go out tonight or tomorrow?”

“Overreacting?” Klarissa spits out in disbelief. “You want an overreaction? Well, fuck you, Travis, fuck you and your work. When you get a clue, look me up, if you don’t have something more important to do, that is.”

She turns on her heel and storms from the room, practically mowing down Jones who is lurking outside, obviously having been drawn in by the sound of their fight. She takes one look at Klarissa’s face and grabs her by the wrist, pulling her away from Travis’ door.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

An hour later, Klarissa is perched on a high stool in a dimly-lit bar, nursing her third cocktail and starting to feel a little buzzed. She’s trying, unsuccessfully to fish the olive from the bottom of her glass while she tries to focus on what Jones is saying from the stool to her left.

“Don’t get me wrong, Klarissa, I love the guy too but let’s face it, he has a one-track mind and that track is never going to be you. I like you, I really do but you’re way out of his league. He doesn’t deserve you. You’ve put up with his shit for long enough, it’s time to get out and enjoy yourself, check out your options,” she says, jabbing a finger in Klarissa’s direction.

With a triumphant ‘Ha!’, Klarissa finally manages to flick the slippery olive from her glass and take a sip of her drink.

“Don’t you agree?” asks Jones.

“Umm, I guess so,” answers Klarissa, not totally sure what it is that she’s agreeing to.

“Great,” says Jones, twisting in her seat. “You see that guy over there, the one who’s been pretending not to look at you for the last twenty minutes? That’s Simon, he’s in my Lit class, want me to introduce you?”

“What?! No!” shrieks Klarissa emphatically. “I love Travis, even if he is being an ass right now. I’m not looking for anybody else.”

“Jesus, Klar, I’m not asking you to marry the guy, just have a drink with him. See that you have other possibilities apart from moody artists.”

Before Klarissa can stop her, Jones raises her arm, beckoning Simon over to them and pulling him to stand between them when he approaches.

“Simon,” she says in a loud voice, “this is my friend, Klarissa. Klarissa, this is Simon.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Simon says, holding out a hand which Klarissa reluctantly shakes. ”Can I buy you ladies a drink?”

“Absolutely,” answers Jones, grinning across at Klarissa and winking.

With no more room at the bar for Simon to sit, the three of them move over to one of the booths at the back of the room, Simon easing into the seat next to Klarissa. He and Jones start discussing something that happened in one of their classes, laughing uproariously, and by the time she’s almost downed her fourth drink, Klarissa is actively joining in with them, surprised to find that she’s actually having a good time despite what happened earlier. Simon is good company, witty, smart and pretty easy on the eyes, Klarissa has to admit but, while she may be responding to the flirtatious overtones he’s throwing her way, inside all she’s thinking about is that she misses Travis and she wishes he was here instead.

She’s just thinking about excusing herself, planning on heading back to the loft to see if she can make things right with Travis, when she becomes aware that somebody is standing at the edge of their table next to Simon.

“Can we help you, buddy?” Simon asks and Klarissa looks up to find Travis’ piercing eyes staring back at her. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as his gaze flicks to where Simon’s arm is wrapped loosely around her shoulder and a look crosses his face that she’s never seen before.

“You can get your fucking hands off my girlfriend for a start,” says Travis, his voice low and dark but still clear enough that Klarissa can hear every word above the ambient sounds of the bar.

“Excuse me?” Simon slides out of the booth causing Travis to take a step back.

“You heard me, douchebag.”

Travis steps back into Simon’s personal space, jaw squared and, with an almost dismissive gesture, Simon pushes against his chest. In the space of a heartbeat, Travis’ fist has arced out, connecting solidly with Simon’s face and Klarissa gives a little shriek as he staggers back to land back in his seat, hands flying up, blood pouring between his fingers. With Klarissa effectively trapped behind him, Travis stands over Simon, a look of murderous rage etched deep on his normally placid face but, before anyone can move, he’s being bodily hauled away by two of the bar’s doormen, kicking and cursing as he goes.

Klarissa’s stomach is in knots, her heart pounding, and all she wants to do is go after him but Simon is blocking her way.

“You should go take care of that,” she tells him, shoving him none-too-gently in her urgency to get free from the booth. Luckily for him, he moves, nodding his head behind his bloodied hand and staggering off in the direction of the men’s room. Klarissa has a momentary flash of pity for him but she squashes it down, right now her priority is catching up with Travis.

“Where are you going?” asks Jones as Klarissa stands up, swaying a little as she feels the effects of the alcohol.

“After Travis, where do you think?” she replies impatiently.

“Why?” Jones sounds genuinely surprised. “Don’t give him the satisfaction. Don’t you see, Klar, this worked out perfectly. Let him stew for a while, make him wonder if you’re busy taking care of Simon, it’ll drive him crazy.”

“I don’t want to drive him crazy,” Klarissa answers, disturbed by the malicious glint that’s sparking in Jones’ eyes. “Oh my God, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I always enjoy a good show,” smiles Jones, leaning back in her seat.

“You set this whole thing up, insisted I come out with you. You knew Travis would follow me.”

“Well, he is so predictable after all. It was a sure thing that he’d come running after his precious girlfriend once he got over his little tantrum. Figured he needed a little wake-up call to remind him what he’s got to lose. I did you a favor, Klarissa, now don’t ruin it by chasing after him like a love-sick puppy. You’ll thank me for it later.”

“Oh, I’ll thank you now,” says Klarissa and, with a resounding crack, she hauls off and slaps Jones hard across the face. Jones’ head whips to one side with the force of the blow, an almost comical expression of surprise on her face.

“Bitch,” spits Klarissa furiously as she grabs her purse and shoves her way through the knot of gaping onlookers that’s now surrounding the booth.

Outside, the night air hits her with a slap of its own and for a moment she stands there, head bowed as a wave of nausea and dizziness washes over her. Taking a deep breath, she gets herself under control, trying to decide where Travis may have gone. The answer comes as the traffic parts on the street in front of her and she spots him, sitting on the curb across from her. Klarissa dodges between cars to cross over to him, slowing down as she gets closer and he doesn’t even look up to acknowledge her, just sits with his head lowered, cradling his bloodied fist in his other hand.

“Travis?” she asks cautiously.

“Go away, Klarissa.”

Her heart sinks a little at his angry tone but she perseveres.

“I just want to talk.”

“What is there to say?” he replies, looking up at her suddenly and she can read the anguish in his eyes. “Go talk to your new boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Travis, come on. There was nothing going on.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me,” shouts Travis, raising himself off the ground and getting into her personal space, gesticulating with his good hand. “It looked like a whole lot of something.”

“Travis, I…”

“I came down here because I felt bad about earlier,” Travis interrupts her, voice still loud and harsh. “I thought I’d try to make it up to you but instead I find you with that dick’s hands all over you, smiling like you’re having the time of your life without me.”

“Travis, it wasn’t like that,” insists Klarissa, raising her voice to match his, stung by his words. “I was mad at you, yes, but I’d never do anything behind your back. Jones manipulated me, she knew Simon liked me and she pushed us together, knowing you were bound to show up at some point. If I hadn’t been so pissed at you, I probably would have realized what she was doing but I was angry and she made sure I always had a drink in my hand while she fed me her lies. But there was nothing going on with Simon, I swear, he was just a nice guy who got caught up in her game.”

Klarissa grabs the front of his shirt, tugging at it to make him look at her properly, the anger deflating out of her.

“I love you, Travis, you know that. Do you think I would throw that away over a silly fight? Do you think so little of me?”

Travis stares coolly down at her, his face still unreadable. Klarissa sighs and steps back, noticing the blood still dripping from his knuckles to the pavement.

“C’mon,” she says, taking his good hand in hers and tugging gently on it. For a second he resists then follows quietly behind her as she leads him a little further down the street and into the Starbucks on the corner.

There are just a handful of people inside and Klarissa quickly scans the faces behind the register, smiling when she sees the person she’s looking for is actually on duty.

“Tara,” she says, leaving Travis by the door and making her way to the counter.

“Hey,” replies the tall, thin girl behind the register, “I was going to text you later, see if you wanted to meet up.”

“Probably not tonight,” Klarissa answers with a sigh. “Tara, do you have a first-aid kit?”

“Sure. What’s up? Are you okay?”

“Travis hit someone. I need to clean up his hand.”

“Travis hit someone?” Tara repeats in disbelief, holding out the small red box and staring over Klarissa’s shoulder at Travis. “For real?”

“Yes, for real,” Klarissa grumbles, starting to feel mad all over again as she thinks about poor Simon.

She takes the first-aid box from Tara’s outstretched hand, collects Travis from by the door and hustles him into the store’s only restroom, locking the door behind them.

In the stark, fluorescent light of the restroom she can see the mess he’s in as she turns on the faucet and instructs him to stick his hand under the icy water. Stoney-faced, Travis does as she asks, watching silently as the water washes away the dried blood from his skin exposing his split and bruised knuckles.

“Shit, Travis,” hisses Klarissa, taking his hand from the water and patting it dry with a wad of paper towels, “how hard did you hit him?”

“Not hard enough,” mumbles Travis sulkily.

“You’re an idiot, you shouldn’t have hit him at all.”

“What did you think I was going to do, Klar?” he asks, wincing a little as she tips iodine over his broken skin. “Just stand there and let him maul you some more?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Travis, he wasn’t mauling me. He bought me a drink and we were talking, nothing more. If you hadn’t been such an ass tonight in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

Angrily, Klarissa wraps a bandage around Travis’ knuckles, securing it with a strip of tape, and then starts throwing things back into the first-aid box.

“Let’s go,” she says, turning to the door. “I just want to go home and have this day be over.”

“Klarissa, wait.”

“What?” she turns back to him impatiently.

Travis doesn’t answer, just reaches out and pulls her to him, his hands clutching at her face as he presses his lips to hers in a hard kiss. Klarissa freezes under his touch, wondering what he’s doing, her mind yelling that she’s still mad at him even as her body yearns to respond. He breaks off at her lack of response, his soulful eyes searching her face with a hint of desperation.

“I’m sorry,” he says, kissing her lips once more.

“Sorry I was a jerk.”

Another kiss.

“Sorry, I upset you.”

One more, softer this time.

“Sorry I ruined your evening.”

A longer kiss.

“Sorry I’m a jealous fool.”

This time when he kisses her, Klarissa kisses him back, her body betraying her mind with its need for him. She wants to stay mad at him and part of her still is but its Travis and she loves him, the thought of rejecting him makes her heart ache. She wraps her fingers in his shirt front, burying them in the soft material as she pulls herself even closer to him, feeling him grin against her lips. He deepens his kiss, his tongue pushing for entrance then pressing against hers as she parts her lips to him. His hands slide down from her face, roaming her body with an urgency that sends a thrill along her nerve-endings. She pulls back from kissing him and he grunts at the loss of contact.

“Take me home,” she tells him, tugging him once more towards the door but he plants his feet firmly and doesn’t budge.

“No,” he says, softly but firmly, almost making it sound like a command as he pulls her roughly back again, turning her to shove her against the cold porcelain of the sink, pressing his body hard against hers. The air rushes out of Klarissa’s lungs in a gasp as he bends his head to suck at the tender skin of her throat. She closes her eyes, feeling a little light-headed still from the alcohol and the way he’s making her body ache for him. His hands push up her sides, coming around to tease at her breasts through her dress as his kisses slide up over her jaw to capture her mouth again.

She arches her back to him, fingers twisting in his hair, feeling one of his hands slip down her body to find its way up under the hem of her skirt and skim the skin on her thigh. Klarissa moans into his mouth, tugging on his hair as his fingers push aside the soft cotton of her panties and start stroking lightly over her sex. She pushes her body against his touch, stifling her groans as his fingertips dig in against her clit, teasing it in a way that he knows makes her crazy. With a final flick of his fingers, he pulls out of her, sliding his hand out of her underwear and leaning back to look her in the eye.

“I like your new dress,” he says with a sly grin. “Mind if I wrinkle it up a little?”

Klarissa glances briefly at the door, wondering if she’s really going to go through with this, knowing if she wasn’t still a little drunk she’d be insisting they go home. But she feels uninhibited right now, her body warming up with its desire for him, wanting to let him take her and make things right. As if sensing her hesitation, Travis takes the decision out of her hands, promptly sliding his hands down her thighs to gather up the edge of her dress and wriggle it up to her waist. He drops to his knees in front of her and Klarissa bites her lip hard as he yanks down her panties, tapping her ankle to get her to step out of them. With no preamble, he pushes her thighs apart, lifting her leg to open her to him, causing Klarissa to grab the sink behind her to maintain her balance.

His mouth is on her pussy before she even has a chance to breathe, his lips pulling and sucking at her clit in a frenzy before he attacks her with his tongue, licking and caressing her until she’s bucking against his mouth.

Somebody turns the handle on the restroom door and Kalrissa nearly screams but Travis just casually pulls off from devouring her pussy and yells, “Ocupado”, before grinning up at her. He gives her swollen clit one last tease with his tongue then raises himself up, lowering her trembling leg to the floor and swiftly unbuttoning his jeans. He pushes them down far enough to release his cock then grabs her by the waist, boosting her onto the rim of the sink and positioning himself between her thighs. He fumbles between them for a moment, cursing under his breath as he fights to find the right angle and then he’s ramming into her, his mouth mashing against hers to cut off the loud moan she gives as he enters her fully.

Klarissa wraps her legs around his waist, her chunky biker boots digging into his ass, barely giving him room to maneuver but not wanting to lose the feeling of him pushing deep inside her. One hand wraps around the back of his neck, clinging tight, the other strokes the side of his face as she licks the taste of herself from his lips and kisses him wildly. He thrusts hard and fast into her, breaking their kiss to nip at her neck with his teeth.

“Fuck, Klar,” he pants, his breath hot and heavy against her ear. “Seeing that fucking douchebag with his arm around you tonight, fuck, that drove me crazy. The thought of another man touching you, of ever doing this to you, taking you like this, I can’t stand it.”

He pounds harder into her, her body punished under his onslaught as she grips tightly at him, mouth wide with silent ecstasy, both hands coming together to lock around his neck. There’s another strident rattling of the restroom door and Klarissa stifles another shriek, burying her face against Travis’ hair but he doesn’t slow, his cock parting her walls with great wet sucking sounds accompanying each thrust. She can feel the sweat building on her body and Travis’ shirt is damp beneath her fingertips.

“You’re mine, Klarissa, fucking mine,” he mumbles against her skin and she tightens around him, feeling his cock pulse as he pushes through her ring of muscle.

“I’m all yours, baby,” she whispers and, with a strangled cry against her neck, she feels him let go, his cock jerking inside her as he comes.  

“Shit, Klar,” he pants, slowing his frenzied pace and pulling back to look at her face, his pupils blown wide with lust and his bangs stuck damply to his forehead as his cock slides from her aching pussy.

“Travis…” It’s half a command, half a plea.

“I’ve got you, kitten,” he assures her, his fingers already reaching down to curl inside her, pushing deep, stroking for the right spot to make her come for him.

Klarissa keeps her eyes focused on his, not breaking contact until he suddenly rolls his thumb across her clit, pressing the sensitive flesh with a firm touch and she feels her eyes roll up as she comes hard over the fingers still buried deep inside her. He keeps stroking her as she moans against him, not stopping until she gently reaches down and pushes his hand away from herself. Her body is quivering still from her orgasm and she can feel the sticky wetness from both of them slicking the inside of her thighs as he helps her to slip down from the edge of the sink, her boots thumping on the tiled floor.

They stare at each other wordlessly for a minute before Travis gives her a shy grin and dips his head to kiss her softly on the lips. They part at the sound of yet another insistent knock at the door.

“I’m calling the manager,” comes a shrill female voice from the other side. “I know what you’re doing in there!”

There’s another staccato burst of knocking and then silence. Travis and Klarissa look at each other and then burst out laughing. Klarissa grabs a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and quickly cleans up while Travis pulls himself back into his jeans, bouncing a little on the spot to get them over his hips. Feeling a little less sticky, Klarissa throws the towels in the trash and bends to retrieve her panties and her purse from the floor where she spots a folded square of paper close to where Travis is standing. She scoops it up and wriggles back into her panties, smoothing her dress back down, before looking at it properly.

It’s a yellow sticky note folded carefully in half, gummy side in, with a few words scrawled on it in Travis’ writing. She turns it in her fingers, reading both sides of the fold, then looks up at Travis who is staring back at her with a pitiful look on his face, his thumb pressed nervously against his bottom lip.

“It was on my monitor,” he says, rushing his words. “I guess it must have slipped down and I didn’t notice. I found it after you left. It’s the reason I came to find you, to say I was sorry. You had every right to be pissed at me tonight, I won’t blame you if you can’t forgive me.”

“Travis,” she sighs, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it, “you’re an idiot. And a genius and this shows me that you care, in your own Travis way. We just need to work on your organizational skills a little more. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt when I thought you’d forgotten but I should have known, deep down, that you would never have done it intentionally. I wouldn’t be surprised if a certain roommate of yours didn’t ‘accidently’ knock this off your monitor, just to see what would happen.”

Travis raises an eyebrow at her as her words sink in but any further discussion on the matter is put on hold as there’s the sound of the lock turning on the door and Tara’s face peeks cautiously inside. She’s looks at them both and Klarissa blushes a little, knowing she must look more than a little flushed and disheveled.

“Everything okay in here?” she asks, trying to keep the smile off her face.

“Fine,” replies Klarissa, grabbing Travis’ hand and passing the first-aid kit back to Tara. “I was feeling a little sick from the blood so Travis was taking care of me.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was!” replies Tara with an exaggerated wink.

Klarissa nudges her in the ribs with her elbow as she passes, keeping her head bowed as she tows Travis rapidly to the front door, ignoring the dozens of eyes she can feel burning into the back of her head.

“Call me,” she hears Tara yell as the door closes behind them and the blessedly cool night air soothes the heat of her skin.

Away from the light of the coffee shop’s windows, Travis stops her quick getaway and pulls her into the dark recess of a doorway. Softly, he strokes the hair away from her face and lowers his lips to hers in a warm, gentle kiss.

“So what can I do to make it up to you, baby?” he breathes against her lips.

Klarissa snuggles into his embrace, her body still aroused from their frantic love-making, her mind turning over this new jealous side to his personality and finding that she doesn’t mind him being a little possessive of her in the slightest.

“How about you take me back to my place and we’ll think of something?” she replies, before pulling his bottom lip with her teeth.

“I like the way you think,” he laughs as she starts to carry on walking.

“Klarissa?”

He pulls on her hand and she turns to look at him.

“Happy Birthday, kitten.”

 


End file.
